Chapter 36: Salvation For Servitude

Kren and Pina’s eyes kept finding each other as they climbed the mountain path. They’d ended up spending nearly eight hours trapped in that cave — the alpha was a patient beast, apparently content to play its games a while longer. But with everything that had come out in the open during that standoff, lingering there any further would have accomplished nothing. So here they were instead, climbing toward the Storm Eagles’ main village to meet with their chief.

How that meeting went would tell Kren whether this entire journey had been worth the risk, or a complete waste of time. Either way, he could already tell Pina was interested. The instant he’d mentioned the bond, something had lit behind her eyes — pure, unfiltered greed, bright with a hunger for power neither of her parents had ever once had the privilege of tasting.

The rest of the gathered crowd wasn’t nearly as thrilled. The Vultures, Moles, and Satyrs who’d come seeking the same prize found themselves abruptly demoted to spectators, watching Kren’s sudden rise with naked, undisguised want in their eyes instead. The Black Lion bloodline carried a reputation that went well beyond famous — legendary barely covered it.

The Pride Bond.

Scholars had spent centuries debating the mechanics of it, as if the bloodline needed any more proof of its claim to rule. To bond with a Black Lion meant stepping into an entirely new tier of power. On a battlefield, a lion and his bonded, his Pride became something close to untouchable — their thoughts shared, memories shared, their Aura, bloodline traits, even arts and spells flowing freely between them. And each bonded in turn could extend that same bond to someone of their own choosing, drawing in new strength and knowledge that fed right back up the chain to the lion at its center.

In a world built entirely around personal strength, the Black Lion’s gift ran backward from every other bloodline — built not to hoard power, but to multiply it outward and reap the return. The perfect tool for a king. The perfect tool for a conqueror.

Perhaps that alone explained why he looked so appealing to Pina right now. Kren caught her eyes again, held them this time — and she looked away first, quick and deliberate. He raised an eyebrow at Aki, who only shrugged in response. Little slipped past the old cat’s notice, but politics had never been his territory. That was Bernice’s domain, through and through.

Kren sighed and turned his focus back to the road ahead. They climbed a spiraling plateau wrapped around the mountain’s flank like a long green serpent of dense vegetation, coiled tight from base to peak. Other mountains rose further inland, but this one stood tallest, dominant — which explained why it played host to both the Lyndwyrms nesting on its western face and the Storm Eagles’ village carved into the eastern plateau.

Two hours of steady climbing brought the village gates into view. The moment Kren laid eyes on them, something in him settled deeper into the idea of claiming these people for his own. The gates themselves stood nearly two meters thick, forged from solid metal and etched with elaborate reliefs — a storm eagle in mid-flight, wings spread wide across the entire surface, feathers rendered in such fine detail they looked almost ready to ripple in the wind.

The pillars anchoring the gates rose into twin watchtowers, each crowned with a massive ballista mounted at the top. Primitive by the standards of modern Aura-forged weapons like cannons and muskets, sure — but the Storm Eagles had once stood as the finest weapon-smiths on the continent, before Gamade, the Lion of the Wind, had broken them a century and a half ago. No real progress had been made since. Still, whatever they’d built back then clearly hadn’t lost its teeth. Kren had no doubt those ballista could punch clean through a Lyndwyrm’s hide — possibly even the alpha’s.

A weapon capable of felling something at Beast Manifestation. He couldn’t help the excitement that sparked in his chest — until Ruhu’s hand settled firmly on his shoulder.

"Don’t get too excited, Your Majesty. Those are for show at this point. No one left in this village has the strength to operate them properly, and from the state of the metal, they’ve sat idle long enough to rust well past their prime. Bringing them back to working order would take serious Aura investment, and a skilled craftsman they clearly don’t have access to anymore."

Kren nodded. Ruhu was head merchant of their kingdom, and he’d spent the better part of the last decade traveling tirelessly, scraping together every useful connection and scrap of intelligence he could while the rest of their people scrambled simply to survive. The man had real experience here. He’d walked this path before.

The gates finally swung open, groaning low and heavy, the sound rolling through the stone beneath Kren’s boots in a slow, deliberate pulse. For a brief second, his awareness through True Earth Resonance sharpened, mapping the ground around him in crisp, overwhelming clarity. He blinked the sensation away. The art still caught him off guard more often than he liked. Mastering it properly needed to become a priority, and soon — there was a good chance it would end up being exactly what carried him through the fight against that alpha.

Pina led them through the heart of the village. One central road ran through its length, flanked by intricate homes built from a careful blend of stone and metal. The sheer volume of worked metal woven into every structure genuinely startled Kren — just how deep did Storm Eagle metalworking run, that they’d poured that same expertise into something as mundane as housing?

As they walked, villagers emerged to watch them pass. For all the architectural beauty surrounding them, the people themselves told a very different story. Children with hollow cheeks and ribs visible through thin clothing. Parents and elders alike watching the procession with dull, exhausted eyes, drained of anything resembling hope. The whole village carried a heaviness to it — dreary, somber, pressing down on Kren’s chest the longer he walked through it.

The road opened into a wide square at its end, a cluster of tents pitched along the edges. Kren spotted a small contingent of Falcon-kin almost immediately, and his eyes narrowed on sight. They weren’t alone, either — off to the left stood another delegation entirely. The Ale. Snakes, every last one of them. The moment Toa caught sight of them, his whole body went rigid with recognition, though he kept his stride level and even. Fima tracked the shift in him with a predatory stillness of her own, more than ready to end him on the spot at the first hint of betrayal.

Kren barely had time to register the rest of the gathered tribes before the heavy doors of the largest structure at the square’s edge creaked open. An elderly Storm Eagle emerged, leaning hard on a carved cane, pale blue eyes sweeping the square with a hungry, assessing gaze before finally settling on Kren. The old chief held his stare — testing him, gauging the weight behind it.

He failed the test almost immediately.

A wave of Aura rolled off Kren’s body unbidden, carrying with it the ghostly echo of a lion’s roar, and the old man staggered backward on unsteady legs. Unlike Pina and Jomin, who both carried genuine sovereign bloodlines of their own, this man held none. Meeting a sovereign’s gaze head-on without that protection was practically an invitation to collapse — especially one with real cultivation standing behind it. Pina and Jomin both rushed forward to steady him before he hit the ground, every eye in the square now locked firmly on Kren. Aki glanced around at the gathered crowd and sighed.

"Well. We’ve certainly made an impression. Doesn’t much matter whether it’s good or bad at this point — they know we’re here now."

Kren had to fight down a smile at that. He stepped forward, closing the distance until he stood directly in front of the chief, close enough that there was no mistaking who he was. Then he smiled — all teeth, no deference whatsoever, radiating the easy confidence of a man who fully expected to get exactly what he came for, regardless of whatever obstacle stood in his path. Given the old man’s open hatred for the Black Lions already, there seemed little point pretending at humility now.

"I am Kren N’kora Blackmane. First of his name. Sovereign of the Felines. King of the Kora Kingdom." He spread his arms wide, turning to address the gathered villagers directly. "And I have come to save you!"

"He’s going to get us all killed." Ruhu muttered to Aki. The white cat only shrugged.

"Maybe just you. I’ve got nine lives."

Ruhu shot him an annoyed look. "Don’t you mean had nine lives? If anything, you’re down to your last three by now. Though I’ll give you this — you are one stubborn old goat."

Aki gasped, visibly offended. "How dare you. I am a perfectly respectable cat, thank you very much. Those goats reek so badly I can smell them from clear across this square. Never compare me to them again."

Ruhu chuckled, turning his attention back to Kren, who had apparently managed to offend a considerable portion of the crowd in record time.

"You have some nerve, Black Lion, standing in my village spouting nonsense like that." The chief’s voice shook with barely restrained fury. Kren only shrugged, utterly unbothered.

"I saved your son’s life. He owes me a life debt. And I’ve come here to kill your Lyndwyrm and marry your daughter — she’ll be the first of my bonded wives. I’ve brought gifts, and a real path out of over a century of squalor and suffering the Zar Empire cursed your people with."

"Your grandfather was the blade they used to deliver that suffering! And he relished every moment of it — my people remember that to this day. What gives you the right to stand here and speak of salvation?"

"The right? Are you genuinely that dense? What exactly do you think would have happened if he’d refused the order? Do you think any of your people would have survived if he hadn’t carried it out — if someone else had been sent in his place instead? Don’t be naive. You’re weak, so you’ve chosen to point your anger at the easiest target standing in front of you, rather than the hand that actually gave the command."

Kren held the chief’s gaze without flinching. "I’m not interested in dragging this conversation out any further than it needs to go. I’m sure everyone gathered in this square came here chasing exactly the same prize I did. Your daughter’s hand. Lordship over the Storm Eagle tribe. That’s exactly what I’ve come for too." His smile sharpened. "Salvation, in exchange for servitude. That was the offer you made. I intend to collect."